


Wax and Wane

by Llaeyro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Begging, Biting, Guilt, M/M, poem, werewolf instincts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 10:57:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10829856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llaeyro/pseuds/Llaeyro
Summary: Remus struggles with his instincts. Sirius only wishes he would stop holding back.





	Wax and Wane

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shiftylinguini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiftylinguini/gifts).



> This was originally written for a Remus/Sirius biting prompt at Daily Deviant's Birthday Bash, but I didn't feel it really met the prompt, so it inspired the fic 'Wait'. I like this, though, so I wanted to post it also.

_Wax and wane,_ goes the Moon.  
_Please, stop,_ begs Remus Lupin.

It is an idle plea,  
Bred by frustration,  
Desperation,  
With no real hope left in it.

 _Wax,_ says the Wolf.  
_Wane,_ says the Man

Desperate to feel again,  
To think again, free of desires,  
Free of urges  
That do not belong in his heart.

 _Wane,_ says the Man

Within his treacherous body,  
Enjoying the brevity of being  
A Man;  
Quiet, polite, harmless.

 _Wax,_ says Sirius Black,

Craving that bit of an edge  
That only comes when  
The wolf  
Approaches. That hunger, passion, fire.

 _Claim,_ says the Wolf.

Possessive touches.  
Consuming, surrounding with his scent.  
Marking.  
Reclaiming his Mate.

 _Yes,_ gasps his Mate.

Exposing his neck,  
Arching his back, encouraging,  
Begging,  
To feel teeth bite into his flesh.

Nothing says the Man,

Lost in the strength of the urge  
To own, to mark, to claim,  
To fuck.  
Victim to his own desires.

 _Please,_ begs his Mate,

Presenting, on his knees,  
Loose and pliant and wanting.  
Ready  
To be taken apart, body and soul.

 _Mine,_ growls the Wolf-Man,

Leaving bruising marks against pale skin,  
Licking and soothing with tongue.  
Thrusting,  
Growling, coming, howling...

 _Yours,_ moans his Mate.

Fingers tangled in hair,  
Guiding that mouth where it feels  
Right.  
These are the times that feel right.

 _Forgive me,_ cries the Man.

    The sting, the ache, will dull with time,  
    The marks will disappear  
    But the wolf will always return again  
    And his mate will still be here.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Wait](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10788573) by [Llaeyro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llaeyro/pseuds/Llaeyro)




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